“I have nothing to do with this,” she stammers. “I’m seeing all of this for the first time.”
“How creative,” I say with a sigh, snatching the folder away from her. “Model citizens, you and your husband. Not even a speeding ticket. Want to hear what I think?”
Tears well up in her eyes as I throw Max the folder and lean over to her.
“It’s bullshit. All of it. No need to make this situation worse than it already is, Lillian. So stop wasting my time and tell us about your husband’s affiliation with the 203.”
“What are you talking about?”
She searches for Max’s gaze, as if he could help her. Out of the corner of my eye, I catch him touching her foot with his. Or maybe I just imagined it. We’ll never know.
“You’re fucking lying to me, Lillian,” I snarl, slamming my fist down on the table. When she flinches and pulls her hands away, a smile spreads on my face. “Wrong decision.”
Moments later, I’m behind her chair, looking right at Max as I remove the handcuffs from my belt. She can thank him and his dumb crush for her predicament.
“That’s not necessary, please. I’m sorry.”
“Only two rules, Lillian, and you still can’t follow them. You don’t get to talk unless I ask you something. It’s not that hard to understand,” I say while I restrain her hands behind her back.
Max’s thoughts are plastered on his forehead, and I don’t like a single one of them.
“Such pretty hands, Lillian,” I whisper, but still loud enough for Max to hear. “Would be a shame if anything happened to them.”
Big crocodile tears run down her face, and Max clears his throat.
“It’s enough, Cabrera. Tone it down.”
“It’s enough when I fucking say so.”
Max’s expression sours. Talking back doesn’t suit him, neither does lecturing me. If it was for him, we would interrogate Mrs. Holton outside in the garden, sitting on a picnic blanket while eating freshly baked brownies.
“I want a lawyer,” she says in between sobs.
“That’s not how things work here.”
The laugh that follows has more tears streaming down herface. Max gets up from his chair, but one look is enough for him to stop moving.
“Don’t you fucking dare,” I mouth and he inhales deeply, tapping his fingers against the table.
“I don’t like being lied to. Especially not by little bi—girls who hit me.” I yank her chair back until she almost topples over.
Her heart races in her chest and with the way she breathes, she’s probably going to pass out in the next few minutes. I hate captives like that; they are no fun.
Gently, I lower all four legs back on the concrete floor and crouch down next to Mrs. Holton. I hate to admit it, but Max was right. She is pretty, even with puffy eyes and blood all over her.
“Lillian,” I say with a sigh. “It’s getting tiring. I want answers, and I want them now. So if you give me something to work with, I’ll remove the handcuffs. Let’s start with something easy, like where all that money comes from. Deal?”
I don’t get an answer, only more hysterical sobbing. This is exactly why I don’t bother trying the stupid good cop approach. Forcing myself to act nice despite being frustrated; only to get the same result? That’s how you end up with a stomach ulcer.
“I’m wasting my time here.” With a tsk, I stand back up. Metal scratches over metal as I slide the keys to the handcuffs over to Max. “Call me when our starlet drops her act.”
Slamming the door to the interrogation room shut somehow didn’t send the message I intended, because someone wraps their hand around my arm and yanks me to the side. And I doubt Mrs. Holton suddenly turned into Houdini.
“Are you fucking serious?” The look on Max’s face is something between annoyance and genuine anger. Worst ofall, it’s disrespectful. “Captain Rockwell told you to go easy on her, and it’s damn obvious she knows nothing.”
“Why? Because she said so?”
“Yes, Logan, because she said so. I’m going to talk to Rockwell and tell him exactly that. If he doesn’t believe me, he can interrogate her and form his own opinion, but I won’t stand by and watch you treat her like she’s some sort of criminal.”
